The last few days have been a blast. I was so wrong about Hamilton. He's
not an upper class snob at all. Yesterday he showed me a better place to
stash my bike. I still think it would have been fine where it was, but the
new place seems slightly more hidden. The time between classes we've spent
talking about nothing and everything. In the afternoon Hamilton showed me a
few spots that he likes to hang out with his camera. We scoped out some
girls in bikinis by the lake, but I realized that what Hamilton really like
about photographing is catching people in action, unaware and totally
relaxed. He told me that was how he first saw me. Arriving on my bike.
That's how he knew about it. Right now we're going to set up a leach on the
satellite feed. OK, OK, I have to admit. Having "a connection high up" can
pay off. I couldn't have done this without Hamilton "borrowing" his dad's
keys. But after the other night it's not really just about connections any
more. Well, not for me anyway. I've let Hamilton closer than I have anyone
for the last 3 years. And that just in a couple of days. Now he rants on
about communication between guys and girls. I have to contain myself not to
start laughing. It's so funny. He can talk about anything and go on
forever. All I have to do is listen.
"The problem is, like there's total miscommunication between guys and girls. When a girl says, 'I really, really like you,' what she means is, 'I'm ready for a commitment, are you?' but when a guy says, 'I really, really like you,' what he means is, 'I wanna have sex with you.'"
"Well, it sounds like you have a lot of experience in this area."
"Hacking into this satellite feed is gonna be great. I mean it'll be like 20 times faster than 56K."
While I set up the equipment, he picks up the tool-bag and slightly leans on it.
"And, when a girl says, 'What are you doing this weekend?' what she means is, 'I want you to hang out with me instead of your friends,' but when a guy says, 'What are you doing this weekend?' what he means is, 'I wanna have sex with you.'
I am done so I stand up leaning on the ledge, watching him as he rants on. With Hamilton leaning over the bag there's only a few inches between us.
"And also when a girl says, 'I need to know where this relationship is going,' what she means is, 'I'm hopelessly in love and I pray that you are too,' but when a guy says, 'I need to know where this relationship is going,' what he means is."
It's so obvious where he's going with this, so I can't help smile as I finish together with him;
"I wanna have sex with you!"
"Right."
"Yeah, right"
There are those blue eyes again. I don't even realize what I'm doing, as I close the few inches between us. The second my lips touch his, reality hits me like a punch in the face. I reel back.
"Oh God, I'm sorry." I stumble a few steps, desperately trying to put a little distance between us. "I'm sorry." Oh, my God. I just kissed Hamilton. A Boy. The Deans son. "I'm sorry. Oh God, I'm sorry." As he takes a few steps towards me all I can do is turn on my heel and run. Get the hell out of here. Before he breaks my nose. Oh, my God, what have I done?
\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/* \*/*\*/*\*/*\*/
I lay on my bed, trying to get started on one of the books on Finns list. I've read about 20 pages, but I couldn't have told you what it's about. I couldn't even tell you what it's called. All I can think about is The Kiss. It lasted for less than a second, but still it is burnt into my brain. Permanently. Never to be forgotten. I like girls. I mean, I've never been obsessed, like some guys, but my sexual fantasies have always involved girls. I've even had a few extended makeout-sessions. So why can't I stop think about that kiss. And, oh God, those eyes.
Just then, those eyes, and the body they're attached to, come barging through my door. I jump off the bed and meet him half way.
"Listen, I wanna say."
"That wasn't what you thought!"
"I don't know where you're coming from but."
"I can explain!"
"No, don't explain. Let's just not even."
"Talk about it!"
"Yeah, let's just."
"Forget about it!"
"Yeah, let's do that."
Having suddenly reach common ground, we can only stand there. And there they are again. Those eyes. I have to look down as I offer,
"Friends?" My heart starts racing. I look up again as he looks down at my outstretched hand. Please, Hamilton, you don't know how much I need this. I don't want to change schools again. I want to be here and hang out with my buddy. It seems like forever before he finally accepts my hand.
"Yeah, friends. No question. No question."
As he looks op at me again my heart goes form racing a mile a minute to a dead stop. Can you have a heart attack at fifteen? Is there a tingling sensation in my left arm? No, the tingling is more all over my body. Suddenly we both realize that we're still shaking hands, and we both snap out of it. Hamilton gives my shoulder a punch, and points at me as he walks backwards towards the door.
"You da man!"
"Yup! Okay! I'm da man!" As he leaves I fall down on my bed. "Oh my God." Friends. Right. We can't even be near each other without me acting like a freak. Oh, well, it's not like it's the first time I've changed schools.
But it's the first time I didn't want to.
"The problem is, like there's total miscommunication between guys and girls. When a girl says, 'I really, really like you,' what she means is, 'I'm ready for a commitment, are you?' but when a guy says, 'I really, really like you,' what he means is, 'I wanna have sex with you.'"
"Well, it sounds like you have a lot of experience in this area."
"Hacking into this satellite feed is gonna be great. I mean it'll be like 20 times faster than 56K."
While I set up the equipment, he picks up the tool-bag and slightly leans on it.
"And, when a girl says, 'What are you doing this weekend?' what she means is, 'I want you to hang out with me instead of your friends,' but when a guy says, 'What are you doing this weekend?' what he means is, 'I wanna have sex with you.'
I am done so I stand up leaning on the ledge, watching him as he rants on. With Hamilton leaning over the bag there's only a few inches between us.
"And also when a girl says, 'I need to know where this relationship is going,' what she means is, 'I'm hopelessly in love and I pray that you are too,' but when a guy says, 'I need to know where this relationship is going,' what he means is."
It's so obvious where he's going with this, so I can't help smile as I finish together with him;
"I wanna have sex with you!"
"Right."
"Yeah, right"
There are those blue eyes again. I don't even realize what I'm doing, as I close the few inches between us. The second my lips touch his, reality hits me like a punch in the face. I reel back.
"Oh God, I'm sorry." I stumble a few steps, desperately trying to put a little distance between us. "I'm sorry." Oh, my God. I just kissed Hamilton. A Boy. The Deans son. "I'm sorry. Oh God, I'm sorry." As he takes a few steps towards me all I can do is turn on my heel and run. Get the hell out of here. Before he breaks my nose. Oh, my God, what have I done?
\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/* \*/*\*/*\*/*\*/
I lay on my bed, trying to get started on one of the books on Finns list. I've read about 20 pages, but I couldn't have told you what it's about. I couldn't even tell you what it's called. All I can think about is The Kiss. It lasted for less than a second, but still it is burnt into my brain. Permanently. Never to be forgotten. I like girls. I mean, I've never been obsessed, like some guys, but my sexual fantasies have always involved girls. I've even had a few extended makeout-sessions. So why can't I stop think about that kiss. And, oh God, those eyes.
Just then, those eyes, and the body they're attached to, come barging through my door. I jump off the bed and meet him half way.
"Listen, I wanna say."
"That wasn't what you thought!"
"I don't know where you're coming from but."
"I can explain!"
"No, don't explain. Let's just not even."
"Talk about it!"
"Yeah, let's just."
"Forget about it!"
"Yeah, let's do that."
Having suddenly reach common ground, we can only stand there. And there they are again. Those eyes. I have to look down as I offer,
"Friends?" My heart starts racing. I look up again as he looks down at my outstretched hand. Please, Hamilton, you don't know how much I need this. I don't want to change schools again. I want to be here and hang out with my buddy. It seems like forever before he finally accepts my hand.
"Yeah, friends. No question. No question."
As he looks op at me again my heart goes form racing a mile a minute to a dead stop. Can you have a heart attack at fifteen? Is there a tingling sensation in my left arm? No, the tingling is more all over my body. Suddenly we both realize that we're still shaking hands, and we both snap out of it. Hamilton gives my shoulder a punch, and points at me as he walks backwards towards the door.
"You da man!"
"Yup! Okay! I'm da man!" As he leaves I fall down on my bed. "Oh my God." Friends. Right. We can't even be near each other without me acting like a freak. Oh, well, it's not like it's the first time I've changed schools.
But it's the first time I didn't want to.